Page 37 of The Smart Killer

It was downright magical. The night air in High Peaks was thick with anticipation as Zeke Lawson stepped out of Big G’s bowling alley for a cigarette. He lit the end and took a hard drag. The tip glowed bright orange as smoke swirled up into his eye. He squinted as his gaze darted around, scanning the familiar faces of the teens loitering outside.

The neon glow from the bowling alley sign reflected off Zeke’s sharp eyes. It was business as usual, yet tonight felt different, charged with an unspoken tension.

Inside, clattering bowling pins and laughter masked the clandestine operations behind the scenes. Zeke went to the back of the alley, where Gavin, the shrewd owner of Big G’s, was waiting. Gavin was a middle-aged man with a sloppy exterior. Everything about him screamed disgusting. His gut hung over his jeans, his belt was always hanging loose, and yet he was every bit likable, offering free drinks, letting teens off without paying at times for snacks if they didn’t have enough. He was the kind of guy no one suspected to be running a drug operation in a small town.

Like many others, Zeke had been lured into his web of deceit through dangling money in front of him.

“Zeke, my man,” Gavin greeted him with a wry smile. “We’ve got another big shipment coming in tonight. The demand’s been crazy. Folks in this town can’t get enough.”

Zeke nodded, his mind already strategizing the distribution process. He knew the drill well — take the drugs, hand them out to the teens, let them do the dirty work, and collect the profits. It was a dangerous game, but one Zeke had mastered over the years.

“We’re going to need a few more recruits. You think you can handle it?”

“I’m already ahead of you. I got four more this week. One of them has already sold a crap load.”

“Yeah, what kid?”

“Some scrawny punk Davis vouched for.”

“He vetted him?”

“Apparently.”

“Apparently? What’s his name? Do I know him?”

“He hasn’t been to the bowling alley, but I trust Davis.”

“What’s his name?”

“Ethan Sutherland, I think he said.”

Gavin’s demeanor changed in an instant. He grabbed hold of Zeke by the collar. “Are you fucking kidding me? How often have I told you that we don’t bring anyone into the circle unless I meet them?”

“You told me to handle things. That you were overloaded.”

A shot of fear went through Zeke. He’d never seen Gavin lose his shit. He was always composed, even on his most stressful days when he received a shipment. “Overloaded but not reckless. Shit, Zeke!”

“What?”

“If he’s the kid I think he is, we are in deep shit.”

“Why?”

“Because his father is a cop.”

Zeke’s stomach dropped.

“Yeah. You dumbass.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know?”

“Shit,” Gavin said over and over again as he paced back and forth, running his hands through wild grey hair. The tips of his fingers were yellowed from having smoked cigarettes back-to-back.

Zeke shrugged. “Look, it doesn’t matter.”

“Like hell it does.”

“Gav, son of cop or not, he’s sold more in the past week than some of our guys have in a month. If his father had sent him in here, they would have busted us by now. He’s cool.”